


Marionette

by Mike_Smith



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Majin Bulma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_Smith/pseuds/Mike_Smith
Summary: A day in the life of Majin Bulma.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Marionette

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Majin Bulma](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/615259) by Amartbee. 



> Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.
> 
> Continuity Note: This is an AU where Babidi used his mind-control power on Bulma, rather than Vegeta, as inspired by artwork by Amartbee on twitter. So this is mostly me just exploring how that might have happened and what Babidi would do with her. I figured the best way to do that was to set things about a month before Goku would have returned from Otherworld, when Babidi would be in need of logistical support instead of energy. 
> 
> Full credit to Amartbee for the Majin Bulma concept.

**[20 March, 774 Age. Earth.]**

4:30 in the morning. You don't sleep much anymore. Not since _he_ came into your life. It's not that you _can't_ sleep, but you just don't _want_ to. Maybe you don't _need_ to. There's so much work to be done. Even if there weren't, you're too excited, too energized to kick back and rest.

You roll out of bed and take a shower. Not because you especially want to, but because _he_ told you to keep up appearances. Bulma, heir to the Capsule Corporation, genius scientist, richest woman on the planet, inventor of the Dragon Radar. None of it feels that important to you anymore, but it matters to _him_ so you play the role that used to be your life.

You step out of the shower, wipe the condensation off of the mirror, and sit down to do your makeup. Your reflection shows a forty-year old woman, still quite youthful-looking for her age. Your eyes are ringed with dark circles, and there's a bulging vein on your left temple, but what draws your attention is the black mark on your forehead. _His_ mark. It looks like a capital 'M', but it's actually a character from a language that was ancient when your species was new. You've been wearing your hair short lately, but the bangs are still long enough to cover it. Fortunately, no one on Earth recognizes the arcane symbol, and you've always been vain enough and impulsive enough that they believed you when you said it was a fashion statement. But your eyes are a different story, so you take the mascaras and gel eyeliners out of your medicine cabinet and paint over the dark circles, making them darker still. When you're finished, your bright blue eyes look like alien stars overlooking a pair of black ponds.

You find a black dress in one of your closets and head straight for the workshop in the basement. The dress cost 100,000 zenni and you've never worn it because you forgot about it, and you're always fixing things or going out on adventures, but now you don't care. So what if it gets smudged or damaged? You can just buy another. Your family thought it was strange at first, seeing you hunched over a soldering iron in the latest runway collections, but they got used to it quickly enough. You've always been such a peculiar girl, Bulma. A mark on your head and the things you do for it can only make you more peculiar, but only a little. Hardly enough to notice.

You work for the next four hours on an alien device unlike anything known to Earth technology. You expect to have it figured out by tomorrow. It would be sooner, except you have to take care of so many little things in the meantime, and _he_ isn't in any particular hurry. It's just busywork, but for you it's the only think in this house that's important.

"Mom?"

You look up from your work and find your son standing in the doorway. How you've come to despise the little pest. "What is it, sweetie?" you ask, barely trying to put any sincerity into the words.

"You missed breakfast."

"So?" The building was crawling with servants, both living and mechanical. Any number of them could feed you at a moment's notice. You just didn't ask for breakfast. You didn't see the point. And what did the boy care whether you eat or not? He'd gotten his own meal, hadn't he?

"Dad told me to-- I mean, _I_ thought I should come down and check on you."

You snort with amusement. "I'll deal with your father when I have time, Trunks. Right now I'm in the middle of something. Shouldn't you be at school?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. At breakfast," Trunks says. "We're doing the play tonight. Remember?"

You roll your eyes, barely concerned whether he notices this or not. "Don't tell me those idiots at the school need _more_ props for that thing," you groan. It had only taken you a single afternoon to manufacture what they needed, and you had even rigged working lights on some of it, but it was time that had taken you away from the _important_ work. And just because _he_ was in no particular hurry didn't mean you enjoyed putting it off.

"No!" Trunks says. "They like the stuff you made just fine!"

"Good! Because that's all they're getting from me. I've got better things to do, you know."

"Sure, but..." he hesitates, and you wish you could shout at him to get to the point, but that wouldn't do. The boy might be useful later on, and you need to keep him close when that time comes. So you swallow your irritation and do your best to look like you actually care what he has to say next.

"You'll be there, right?" Trunks asks. "It's at 6 P.M., remember?"

"I'll be there," you say, hoping a direct answer will satisfy him as efficiently as possible. He doesn't seem convinced.

"It's just, if you've got somewhere else to be..." Trunks says.

"I'll _be there_ , all right?" You snap at him. "But if you don't get your butt to school, I _might_ change my mind!"

That gets him to leave, at least. You grumble to yourself about having to waste another evening on some pointless social event, but at least if gives you an excuse to wear the tulle dress you picked up in North City. The cut is probably too scandalous for a grade school play, but the stockings with the spider-web pattern would go well with it.

There was something liberating about it all. The old Bulma wouldn't have gone to such lengths, but now you're free to do and speak as you see fit, unconcerned with what anyone thinks. And the _power_. There was something so intoxicating about being able to tighten bolts with your bare hands. Something about _his_ control over you make you stronger. Not strong enough to be of much use as a warrior, but _he_ didn't need a warrior, after all. _He_ needed _you_.

You remember being upset that night. Unappreciated. Your man was busy training, as usual. Your friends must have had other things to do, or else they just didn't need anything fixed. Funny how they always showed up whenever they needed something, but not that night. So you went out by yourself, not really sure where to go, and you passed by that man with the mark on his forehead. He pointed at you like he was showing someone, but he was alone, or so it seemed.

And then the _pain._ It hurt worse than anything you've ever felt before. Like someone had scooped out your brain and replaced it with hot coals and sulfuric acid. You remember feeling a little self-conscious about collapsing in front of all those other pedestrians, but it hurt too badly to stand. Then you made it to the ground and found that it hurt to badly to lie down. And then _he_ was there, inside your head, explaining who he was and what he was doing, and what he planned to do with you. And the pain began to subside as you realized that _he_ was in control now, and it only hurt when you resisted _him_. You stood up, like a puppet being pulled upright, and ignored all the passers-by who stopped to try to help you. They didn't see the "M" that suddenly appeared under your bangs, but you knew it was there. You found the man who had pointed you out on the street, and he picked you up and flew up into the sky, taking you to _him_. Master Babidi.

His goals were simple: He had come to Earth seeking his late father's creation, a monster called Majin Buu. He would revive the monster with his magic, but they had to find him first, and they had to work carefully, and there were other details to consider. The spaceship that brought him to Earth was old and in disrepair, and there was only so much his crew could do with the parts they had on hand. And so he enslaved Earthlings and sent them out to find other Earthlings who could solve his problem. Your reputation as a genius inventor led them right to your doorstep.

And you were up for the challenge. The technology on the ship was advanced, but not so far beyond the kind used by the Saiyans, or Frieza, or the Namekian spaceship you had overhauled a decade ago. And there was plenty of time. Your master wouldn't be ready to leave until after he had revived Majin Buu. Then he would use him to destroy the Earth, and that was when he would need the ship ready to fly.

You're looking forward to that day. _His_ control over your heart has made you as excited about Majin Buu as well. You can't wait to see him, whatever he is. Maybe he's handsome. You imagine a powerful djinn, rangy and muscular, dressed in ancient alien finery, thanking you for your part in freeing him from his magical prison. The two of you cuddle in one of the cabins of the spaceship, as your master sets course for some other planet for Buu to destroy. How very romantic.

You consider taking a break to find Vegeta, if only to blow off some steam, but the work is too important, so instead you go upstairs just long enough to swipe a teacake from your mother. Funny how you didn't notice your hunger until the boy pointed it out. Your mother wants you to stop and chat, but she's used to your brusque refusals, and doesn't question why you spend so much time working on things you won't discuss.

By 1:30 in the afternoon, you're finally tired enough to take a catnap on the old tweed sofa in the workshop. There's cake frosting smeared on your dress, and you stink of lithium grease, but you don't care. You don't even bother to take off your heels.

Less than an hour later _he_ speaks into your mind, and you sit up faster than you ever knew possible. "Yes, Master Babidi!" you say, half-panicking, half thrilled that he would contact you at all.

"Ah, there you are, Bulma. It _is_ 'Bulma' right? I have trouble keeping track. Well, that isn't important. Whatever your name is, I need you at the ship."

"O-of course, Master!" you reply. If anyone could hear you right now, they would think you were speaking to a ghost. You wouldn't care what they thought. This was much too important to worry about what anyone else thinks. "But... but, Master, the part you gave me... it isn't ready yet!"

"Oh, it's not about that," he says. "Something else has broken down. The backup generators, or so they tell me. I'm sending someone to pick you up. How does that sound? You'd like to go out for a ride, wouldn't you?"

"Very much! Thank you, Master! I'll start working on it as soon as I arrive!" You mentally kick yourself for saying that. Of course you'll work on it when you get there. That's what he's ordering you to do, but you felt like you needed to say something."

"Splendid. I'll see you very soon, my dear."

You aren't sure how long you have to prepare, so you head upstairs to gather your equipment. One of your black satin handbags is stuffed with Hoi Poi Capsules containing your diagnostic gear. You throw this into the pocket of a leather tool belt, then you fetch a steel box filled with anything else you might need. Then you anxiously call down to the reception desk to make sure no one had come asking for you. When the answer is no, you pace around your bedroom for five minutes, then decide that you might as well change clothes before you leave.

It takes a minute or two for you to decide, but you settle on an asymmetric number with ruffles on the one shoulder. Another minute to touch up her makeup, and then you find yourself pacing in the reception area instead of your bedroom. Your heart leaps when the main entrance opens, but it's only your father.

"Oh, Bulma. I haven't seen you in a while."

"Leave me alone, dad, I have an appointment."

"Hmmm, you know that mark on your head seemed rather silly to me at the time, but I guess it's becoming very trendy. That girl outside had one just like it."

"What? Where?"

He strokes the edge of his lavender mustache and glances up in the air as he tries to recall. A black cat hangs on the shoulder of his labcoat. You want to throttle the old man and beat the answers out of him, but you know that would get you nowhere.

"Now let's see," he says to himself. "I was admiring the goldfish in the pond, so I must have noticed her while I was walking back into the house. Yes, on the other side of the street, I think. She looked just like you. A very sour expression. You know, if you asked me--"

You shove him aside as you race out the door to find whoever he's talking about. As you move, you surprise yourself with how quickly you can run now. In seconds, you've already crossed the front lawn and reached the crosswalk to find--

"You're Bulma, aren't you? Kept me waiting long enough."

She's a young woman, maybe just out of high school, dressed in a wrestling singlet. Unlike you, she hasn't bothered to cover the dark circles under her sunken eyes. There are bulging veins all over her muscular arms, and her jaw seems to be permanently clenched as she sneers at you.

"Master Babidi sent you to pick me up, right?" You ask. "Well why didn't you come inside and have me paged?"

"Oh _that_ wouldn't look suspicious at all," she snarls.

"Look, if you're in such a hurry to get back, let's _go_ already!"

"Fine by me," she says. Without a word, she grabs you by the waist, digging her fingers into your side as she takes off into the sky. For all the strength you've gained since _he_ took your mind, you still find yourself overwhelmed by the flow of the air rushing past. Your escort seems completely unconcerned. Her black pigtails flap behind her as she picks up speed. She's much, much faster than the last flunky Babidi used to take you to and from his ship. It took hours to wash all of the flecks of his brain out of your hair.

"Where did they find you?" You ask, hoping to pass the time in a way that makes you forget how high up you are.

"Satan City," she says. "I used to fight crime there, but _he_ needed me. I guess he's got you fixing his ship now, right?"

"That's right."

"Good. It'll be nice to get off this rock."

"Have you heard about Majin Buu, then?"

This elicits a smile. "You bet!" she says with an excited growl. "I can't wait to see him! He'll tear my dad to _pieces_!"

You aren't sure that most of your fellow slaves know what Majin Buu is capable of. But you know. You barely escaped Namek before Frieza destroyed it. You've witnessed even greater powers since then, ones that could slaughter Frieza in an instant. Whatever Majin Buu is, you know that he can destroy the Earth and everyone on it. And he almost certainly will.

And you like that idea now, don't you, Bulma? Let it all burn, right? It'll be liberating, not to have to worry about the fate of the world for once, not to have to depend on so-called "friends" to save it. This time, you're on the side of the destroyers, the _right_ side. Your master doesn't need prisoners, and he already has all the Earthling servants he wants. Once Majin Buu is released, the Earth will no longer serve any purpose, and you're eager to see it die.

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

The girl alights on a farm in the middle of nowhere. There's a family of three lying dead near a blue pickup truck, and a large section of pasture has been dug up. The ship is buried underneath, with just the uppermost section of the hull poking out above the surface, like the tip of a metallic iceberg. She leads you through the door, and escorts you down to the lower decks, as if you don't already know the way. Then she takes you somewhere else.

"Uh, hello?" you say, not bothering to conceal your annoyance. "The engine room is _that_ way."

"Well good for the engine room, then," she replies. "My orders were to bring you here."

Before you can ask what 'here' is, she leads you into a room you've never been in before. There, among the shadows, you find a large pedestal displaying what looks like a giant canteloupe with an acne problem. Before it stands Dabura, and... _him_.

"Master Babidi," you say, unsure how else to react. Usually he never meets with you personally when you come over for repairs.

"Reporting as ordered, Master," the girl says.

"Ah, well done, Videl," he says with a sneering smile. Babidi looks like a cross between a catfish and something you once dissected in high school biology. As he speaks, he occasionally tugs at one of the tentacle-like whiskers on either side of his muzzle, as if it were the end of a mustache. His wrinkled, jaundiced scalp has a few bristle-like hairs, and his bulging, beady eyes seem to stare past whatever he looks at, as though focusing on his true goal. Everything about him is utterly revolting, and you adore him nonetheless. You would do anything for him, and he knows you would, because he made it so.

"I bet you're anxious to get started on the repairs, aren't you, Bulma?" he asks you. "But before you do that, there's something I wanted you ladies to see." He waves one of his shriveled arms at the canteloupe, and it finally dawns on you just what it could be.

"I-is that--?" you ask, your heart trembling with excitement.

"Yes, Bulma," Dabura says. His voice is as deep as he is tall. You'd find him handsome if those horns sticking out of his forehead weren't such a turnoff. Once, he was the King of the Demon World, the strongest being in that side of the universe, and perhaps this side as well. But that was before _he_ found him, and turned him into just another slave, no different from Videl, or from you.

"Majin Buu," you say with awe-filled reverence. You reach out with your hand, like you want to touch the ball but you doubt it would be safe. "He's really in there, isn't he? And you found him."

"A simple matter, thanks to the detectors you reconfigured for us," Dabura says with a smirk. "Which means we will be needing the ship sooner than expected."

"Of course!" you say. "I'll stay on board for as long as it takes."

"Splendid," Babidi says. "You're so very dependable, Bulma. And while you're doing that, Miss Videl here will be gathering energy for Majin Buu's revival."

"Energy?" you ask. Babidi has taken your mind and body, but not your boundless curiosity.

"Life energy, my dear," Dabura explains. "Taken from the inhabitants of this wretched planet."

"Yes, yes, it really is very convenient, isn't it?" Babidi says with a cackle. "I thought we might have to wait until we were back in space to find the energy we need, but according to our scans of Videl here, it shouldn't take too many thousands of people to supply the energy to reactivate Majin Buu."

Videl twitches, and grabs at her own hair. You think you see her rip some of it out, but there are more important things to worry about than hair right now. "With your permission, Master, I'd like to get started," she says. "The tournament is a month away, but I'm sure I can make a lot of progress before then."

"Tournament?" You ask. This word catches your attention. "You're not talking about the Tenkaichi Budokai, are you?"

"Of course," Videl says. "Strong fighters have much more life energy than normal people. And the strongest fighters in the world compete in the tournament, so if I steal energy from a few of them, it ought to speed things up."

Dabura points to himself "I offered to donate my own power to complete the task, but unfortunately the energy needs to be uncorrupted. Master Babidi's influence makes all of us incompatible."

"I _had_ thought about using _these_ ," Babidi says as he reached into the folds of his orange cloak. When he withdraws a Dragon Ball, you nearly cry out with joy. One of your greatest achievements was inventing the Dragon Radar, a device for locating each of the seven mystical Dragon Balls that can make any wish come true. When Babidi took your mind, your fondest wish was to turn the Radar over to him, so that he could make use of it.

"You've already gathered the Dragon Balls, Master?" you ask.

"Oh, yes, you made it very easy for us," he says. "Even that dolt Spopovich managed to find them all. And I'm sure the Dragon you told me about would do the trick, I suppose. 'Dragon, fix the ship!' or 'Dragon, bring Majin Buu to full power!', but I decided to hold that option in reserve. For now, it might attract unwanted attention if we tried to use the Dragon Balls."

"Oh. I see." You can't remember the last time you felt so disappointed.

"Now, now, don't be so glum," Babidi says. "There's more than one way to be useful to me. Remember, by holding onto these, we ensure that our enemies won't be able to use them against us. We even put the others in those special boxes you provided, that would conceal them from other radars. That should make sure no one bothers us while Videl works on her mission."

"I'd like to help with that, Master," you say. It takes a moment for you to get the words out, like some part of you is hesitating, but that's ridiculous. What could possibly stop you?

While you've been talking, Videl has received a device from one of the crew. It looks like a strange porcelain bottle, but with a spike on the end instead of a stopper. It bears the same "M" symbol as Dabura, and Videl, and yourself. Master Babidi labels all of his possessions.

"I have to shove this thing directly into the victim to steal their power," Videl says with a skeptical look in her eye. "And the people I plan to go after aren't exactly pushovers. What can _you_ do to help?"

"I know where to find other fighters," you say, still struggling past some hint of reluctance. "Much stronger than anybody you'll find at the tournament."

"Stronger?" Videl asks. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I know! She's talking," Babidi explains, "about her friends. Aren't you Bulma? You warned me about them early on, didn't you? How they might try to stop us, how they might be strong enough to interfere with our plans."

You nod your head. "That's right, Master."

"Bah, I still don't believe that," Dabura protests. "No matter how strong they may be, they're no match for me. Just tell me where to find them, and I'll gladly slaughter them all. Or I could use my spit, and turn them into stone. A fine collection of statues for Bulma to remember them by."

"Yes, Dabura," Babidi says, "but we don't want to turn them into stone. We _want_ to take their energy for Majin Buu. Then _he_ can destroy them for us. Unfortunately, I'm afraid Videl is right. If she tries to use the Energy-Suction device on one of them, they might destroy it, or follow her back here, where they might damage the ship. And if we risk a direct confrontation, that might bring that rotten Supreme Kai down on our heads."

"I could destroy the Kai for you just as easily, Master," Dabura promises.

This draws a wide grin from Babidi. "Yes, I'm sure, but I want to take my _time_ with that one. No, I'll face the Kai on my own terms, when Majin Buu is ready. It'll take longer, but it'll be more than worth the wait."

"Maybe you won't have to wait that long," you say. "You have energy absorbing devices on the upper decks, right? Those are passive units for stealing energy from intruders."

"Those only work when an intruder is hurt," Dabura says. "So unless you intend to fight--"

"No, of course not!" Bulma says. "You muscle-heads always think with your fists. We have to stab them with a bottle or punch them in a special room. What we need is a device that combines the two. Something that pulls the energy directly out of a victim, but slowly, and at a distance, so they don't even notice it."

"Interesting," Dabura says. Despite insulting him a moment ago, you actually respect him. Belligerent as he is, he admires cunning. You've gotten very good at cunning now that you no longer worry about who lives or dies.

"And you think your idea would be faster than me filling the bottle one victim at a time?" Videl asks. For the first time, she regards you as a resource instead of a burden.

"Oh this is exactly why I enjoy having you around, Bulma!" Babidi says. Your knees go weak from the compliment. "Such a brilliant thinker you are. Even if it isn't faster, we can still have Videl out there gathering energy the old-fashioned way, so we have nothing to lose!"

"Then I can begin at once," you say. "Well, as soon as I'm finished repairing the ship. In the meantime, Videl could round up some test subjects for me. I'll need to study both devices to understand how they work."

"Of course!" Babidi says with a raucous laugh. "Whatever you need. You'll give her your full cooperation, won't you, young lady?"

She will, obviously. Like you, Videl has no other choice.

You take your leave and proceed to the engine room. The crew is used to your presence and they defer to your instructions. Most of them are from a planet called Zoon. The ship was from Zoon as well, until _he_ needed it. And what good is a ship without a crew? Everything they knew before Babidi, their lives, their families, their feelings, is unimportant. As for their story after Babidi, well, it's pretty much the same as yours, isn't it?

Fourteen hours later, Videl carries you back to Capsule Corp. Your dress is wrinkled, your skin and hair are stained with dust and grime, and various bodily fluids from the test subjects Videl obtained for your experiments. She wishes you luck with a friendly smile. Torturing innocent people has a way of bringing people together in Babidi's fold. She's not much older than you were when you embarked on your first Dragon Ball hunt, and she's killed so many people already. You're exhausted, but there's still more work to be done. Majin Buu is so close to being revived, and the thrill of that prospect is better than sleep.

By now, everyone at your house knows better than to ask where you've been or what you've been doing. How quickly you became a monster in your own home! Or maybe they've always resented you, feared you, and now you've proven that their worst impressions of you were correct. You head for your workshop, enjoying the sound your heels make as they strike the basement floor with each step.

A few adjustments. That's all it takes. Now that you're closer to your target, surrounded by your own equipment, it's so much easier to make the finishing touches on what you've created. But you'll need to be even closer to make it work. That won't be any trouble at all.

You take a shower, and this time you don't bother with the makeup. You rather like the way your eyes look, and you've been awake long enough that it's easy enough to explain. You wonder if you should even bother finding something to wear, but vanity reminds you that you have so many outfits and any excuse to show one off should be taken. So you find some strappy faux leather lingerie that you probably bought on a dare, and throw a sheer robe over that, then you tousle your hair and make your way to the Gravity Room.

Your father invented the Gravity Room, but you've repaired it enough times to know it inside and out. You can override the lock on the door and reset the artificial gravity with one hand. You have to do it with one hand, since you're lugging your creation in the other.

Normally, entering unannounced would be dangerous, if not suicidal. The room applies an artificial gravity field, routinely exerting as much as 400G's. Shutting it off all at once can throw the occupant off-balance, and the person walking in could catch a stray energy blast, or shrapnel from an exploding training robot. But you're stronger now, thanks to _him_ , and you checked the surveillance camera before you entered. Vegeta is wrapping up a session, and was probably minutes away from shutting off the gravity himself.

"What do _you_ doing here?" he asks, doing his best to sound indignant. He misses you. The 'old' you, though he doesn't understand what's happened to you well enough to put that into words. The sentimental fool. If he had any sense, he would have killed her the first time he saw the 'M' on her forehead. Instead, he retreats into his training sessions, hoping against hope that somehow you'll go back to the way you used to be. He's too attached to you to see you as a threat, and too proud to seek help from anyone else.

You put the device on the floor and throw off your robe, not that it concealed much, but his eyes widen anyway. He misses the "old", but the "new" you still has plenty to offer.

"I finished some work, and now I want you," is the only explanation he's going to get. This, he likes. The directness of her approach is scandalous to his princely ears, but that's what makes it so exciting for him. You retreat into your workshop for hours, sometimes days, and then go to him only when you're in the mood for sex. You wonder if this is how they mated on his home planet.

"You missed it," he says. "Trunks' play at school. You _told_ him you would be there."

"I don't have to explain myself to _you._ I didn't dress like _this_ to come talk to you about _children_." You say this to him as you approach, and then grab his wrist to pull him up to his feet. As strong as you've become, no force on Earth could manhandle him unless he allowed it. And yet, he's still impressed by your audacity.

"Have a care, woman--" he starts to say, but you're already pulling his hands towards you, placing them where you want to be touched. You know exactly how to shut him up. He's putty in your hands, even more so now that he's concerned for your well-being, but unsure what to do about it.

"You live in this house for free, eating and sleeping as you please... so don't tell _me_ to have a care," you shout as he nibbles the side of your neck. "You've only got one responsibility around here, so let's see it! Or would you rather sleep in the yard?"

He loves this. The abrasive tone, the more aggressive style. And you love it too. You don't love the man himself, of course. Not anymore, or so you tell yourself. It's the sense of danger to it all. Here, inside a room where a turn of a dial could produce enough g-force to crush your body like an egg. In the arms of a man powerful enough to flash fry you in an instant. Even the training robots, lethal in their own way, though they all lay dormant on the deckplate of the room. And here you are in the middle of it, wearing a few strips of lingerie, and losing a few more strips by the second. Not to mention that your Master could make your head explode if he felt like it. You've seen him do it to other minions, so why should you be any safer? The whole scene is deadly, and here you are feeling completely in control.

But you're not really in control, are you, Bulma? No, you're a puppet, and the only reason you think you have any control is because _he_ doesn't always feel like tugging the strings. It's a very comfortable feeling, though, isn't it? To be self-aware without really having any responsibility for what you do. It's a cage, but it feels like freedom. You mount Vegeta and play your role with gusto, moving your body with the extra force provided by the strength you gained from being possessed. He's a Super Saiyan, and so he can barely sense the difference. A drop in the bucket suddenly grows into thirty or forty drops, and how can a river be expected to notice? But he _does_ notice the difference in the way you move, even if he doesn't realize that you could lift a car over your head now.

And the entire time you have sex with this man-- not "making love", because love isn't part of this equation anymore-- your creation is lying on the floor next to you. There's a few blinking lights on the side, but nothing to make him suspect that it's siphoning his life energy away, a little bit at a time, so slowly that he won't even notice that it's gone.

When you're done here, you'll take the machine back to the workshop and test it, see how much energy has been gathered. And then a few more adjustments, and a few more tests like this one. Then you can install the device under the deckplate of the Gravity Room and leave it running all the time. Videl can pick it up when it's ready, and before long, Majin Buu will be resurrected. All thanks to this unsuspecting fool currently writhing beneath you, wincing at the sensation of your nails digging into his chest, muttering under his breath about how much he adores you.

You look down and smile, not at him, but at the machine blinking steadily nearby. The 'M' printed on the side matches your own. The digital readout displays the current time. 4:30A.M. You hadn't realized how late it had gotten. You don't sleep much anymore. Not since _he_ came into your life...

**-END-**


End file.
